


Life on Either Side

by glamaphonic



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Backstory, Canon Character of Color, F/M, Female Character of Color, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamaphonic/pseuds/glamaphonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Progression through division.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life on Either Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cobaltink](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cobaltink).



**I. Introduction**

Mai is very small, and her mother tells her that she will make a new friend. This friend will be the most important friend she will ever make, and Mai must be good and quiet and do whatever she is told. The walls of the palace loom, and Mai girds herself for an unpleasant task.

It is less troublesome than she would have imagined though. Princess Azula is all clever words, wicked smiles, and even more wicked ideas. They will be the very best of friends always, Azula informs Mai, and Mai obediently agrees. This is the plan and thus it proceeds.

Azula's brother is not part of the plan. Not at first. Not until Azula makes biting jokes and Ty Lee giggles far too loudly. Not until Mai realizes that she is not blushing because Azula and Ty Lee have embarrassed her, but because of the way that Zuko is looking at her.

She likes the way he smiles and this is a fresh, new thing. A fledgling emotion, awkward and coltish, but ever intensifying, hotter and brighter, until her palms sweat in his presence and her mouth is dry.

It is partly enlivening and another part disconcerting to feel so much about so little. It seems like something that is destined to reject being boxed or restrained; it seems like something that will resist control. Her mother would be angry, Mai thinks, if she really understood. She would cut it off at the knees. Mai makes no more attempt to explain this than anything else and lets it flourish under her own watchful eye.

She waits and wonders whether it will wither, or grow to consume her.

***

In the Earth King’s throne room, he looks defeated. It is a stark contrast to the occasion: his greatest of victories. She has wondered about him many times over the long three years: where exactly his travels took him, all of the things that he saw outside of the boundaries of the pristine capital, and the way that he felt, cast out and alone. She wondered, but never doubted, and she planned, always, for his return.

It is not like a fairy-tale or a storybook; there is nothing from which to rescue her, no pressing terror away from which she must be whisked, or guarantee of a happily-ever-after. There is only her thoughts, how she will look and what she will say, ever transmuted by time and circumstance, but still of absolute importance.

As it turns out she just says: “Hey,” while dressed in dull Earth Kingdom green and brown, with her hair in need of a slight touch-up.

Azula sprawls across the Earth King’s throne, appearing to pay them little mind. But Mai has known her long enough to register the attentiveness in the stillness of her hands and the way that her eyes are moving cyclically through the points of interest in the room. Ty Lee gazes at them openly, a grin on her face.

Zuko only swallows hard and stares, and Mai wonders what _he_ had planned all this time.

 

**II. Escalation**

Azula will be with her tutors for an hour yet. Mai has come too early, by design and with purpose. It has been this way for months, since they stood on the cusp of age thirteen, and years of blushing and averted gazes resolved themselves into something new.

Zuko has sat with her, comfortably silent, in his favourite spots. He has taken her on whirlwind tours through all of the secret places of the palace. The one she likes most is the roof of the eastern wing, accessible by a quick scurry up an apple tree and a wild, exhilarating leap. He thought that she might be scared and grinned at her, brilliant and beautiful, when she was not. The vista of the entire capital city and the edges of the island itself are visible if you sit in just the right place.

“This will all be mine someday,” Zuko has said quietly, proud and determined.

He has shown her his firebending forms, which Mai finds herself far better able to appreciate than Azula’s grandstanding, absent the fear of being singed. Zuko would never hurt her, of this she is sure. She, in turn, has revealed to him with great aplomb the striking precision of her aim and favoured him with instruction on wrist movements and steady hands.

She no longer looks away when she smiles at him. Shyness recedes to make way for challenge.

Sometimes, they hold hands: a gesture to help her along extends into a silent display of affection or a bold snatching at fingers to start, momentarily unashamed to admit the need for contact.

Today, hidden in a corner of the garden, he looks devious and smug. The source of which he soon reveals to her: a filched bottle of rice wine.

“And what do you plan to do with that?” she asks immediately, her face schooled into haughty dismissal.

He frowns and his tone makes clear that she is missing the point of this exercise entirely.

“I got it from the kitchen,” he informs her.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d picked it from a tree.”

He huffs.

“Are you going to drink it?” she asks, her voice dubious to make up for the solicitousness of the question itself.

“Yes!” he answers. “Why else would I get it?”

“To show off,” she sniffs, which settles it because Zuko can never resist a dare, and, anyway, he really had intended to show off.

Mai watches with great interest as he takes a swig and then another, a gulp, and then a sip. He doesn’t look any different really and in silent agreement, they sit, backs against a tree trunk, and wait.

“How do you feel?” she asks later.

“Fine,” he replies, though he sounds almost drowsy.

“Well, then that wasn’t a very-” she begins, but stops short when he kisses her.

His mouth is warm and wet, and he catches her bottom lip between his own. Mai screws her eyes shut and rests her hand on his shoulder.

He smiles when they part, eyes questioning. Her answering smile, cheeks and mouth flushed, seems to make decision settle itself in his eyes. His grin turns cocky and she is too overwhelmed to tease him out of it. Too overwhelmed by the taste of rice wine and his lips and what has just, finally, blossomed.

“There’s a meeting. A war meeting,” he announces only the slightest bit glassy-eyed. “In a few days. I’m almost a man now, you know. I’m going to go.”

“Were you invited?” she asks, still lightheaded with all the possibilities solidifying before her.

“I’m the prince,” he states and this seems to double as impetus for him to wind a careful arm around her shoulders and tug her closer. “I shouldn’t have to be.”

***

The path out of Li and Lo’s tiny flat is through a window, down a balcony, and into the sand. Mai treads silently past that row of houses, further down towards the moonlit beachfront and Zuko meets her halfway. They don’t speak at first, just twine their fingers together and wander. Though, it becomes immediately apparent what they’re wandering towards.

The royal family’s beach house is coated with a layer of dust, and they leave footprints as they pass. Mai coughs and Zuko leads her through a hall and out into the inner courtyard and the open air. He closes his eyes, shoulders set, as an ocean breeze wafts by them. Mai leans in and kisses his neck, just below his jawline. He opens his eyes briefly before letting them slide closed again as he presses his mouth to hers.

Mai’s back is pressed firmly against one of the veranda pillars and one of Zuko’s hands is at the nape of her neck before he lets out a long breath and pulls away. He braces his free hand against the pillar to one side of her head, his expression troubled.

“I didn’t bring you here for this,” he whispers.

“Then you really should plan better,” she replies, sinking a hand into his hair and pulling his mouth back to hers.

He relaxes into her for a long moment, but then he jerks away suddenly, fiercely, as if burned, and sits down on the steps.

“No, Mai,” he says, voice still breathy. “I’m serious.”

“Then why _did_ you bring me here?” Her lips are still swollen and her face is still red, but her expression is as even as always.

“I wanted to talk.”

“Don’t you think we all talked enough earlier, or do you have another explosion of _feelings_ to get out of the way?” she asks, flatly.

His annoyance shows obviously, if briefly, on his face.

“You’re doing it again,” he says quietly.

Mai sighs. “You aren’t going to call me a blah and accuse me of cheating on you now are you?” she asks, unable to stop the pique from creeping into her voice. “I really don’t need an encore of that performance, thanks.”

His response is utterly sincere, his gaze meeting her eyes. “You’re not a blah.”

Mai has no retort for that, so she just stands, crosses her arms and, after a moment, glances away.

“Why are we together, Mai?” he asks softly. When Mai looks again his shoulders are slumped and she is taken aback by how utterly defeated he sounds. “Why are you even my girlfriend?”

Her limbs feel numb and her tongue is thick in her mouth, so there is a pause before she is able to speak.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” he says immediately, voice raised and adamant. “It’s not- _I_ don’t want to break up with _you_.”

“I told you a hundred times that there was nothing going on with me and that guy!” Mai replies, the irritation now unmistakable in both tone and expression.

“It’s not just that!” he yells, insistent. “I don’t make you happy! I can’t even do anything to-”

“I told you,” she says. “I told you that I care about you.”

“You say that, but…” He swallows heavily, as if preparing himself. “People say a lot of things they don’t mean.”

The anger bubbles up in her chest and the bile in her throat, and she can’t look at him now, earnest and hopeless and utterly infuriating. But she cannot look away either. Her vision blurs, but she doesn’t cry. Not quite.

“I _waited_ for you,” she manages, willing her lip not to quiver. “Azula and my parents and _everyone_, they- I couldn’t stop myself, even when I tried I couldn’t- Every day.” He is staring at her now halfway to his feet again, wide-eyed, shocked or awed or something else, Mai can’t tell. “I waited for you for _three years_, Zuko,” It comes out as a yell. “And if you can’t understand what-”

The rest of her words are lost in his crushing embrace and desperate kiss. He kisses her deeply, and for a long time, and when he releases her just enough to press their foreheads together, she has trouble catching her breath.

“Mai, I don’t know how to do this—anything—halfway,” he says, voice rough with emotion, like a confession he’s been holding onto for too long, and she finally understands. “I have a hard time changing directions. I always have. I just needed to know that you-”

“I’m with you,” she finishes, and there is nothing else to say.

 

**III. Recession**

On the day of Zuko’s banishment, Mai practices her calligraphy. She embroiders a phoenix, in perfect detail, onto the sleeve of a dress. She reads a book of haiku. She throws shuriken only in the practice yard, at the bullseye and not at her bedroom walls.

These are her mother’s instructions, which she follows to the letter.

The next day, her point proven, she does nothing all morning, then wanders out into the capital at midday. She does not return until late in the night and answers her mother’s demands about where she has been with a lie about Azula. In the days after that, she doesn’t bother with any of it.

Mai hates the Fire Lord. Mai hates Azula. Mai hates her parents. Mai hates her countrymen. Mai hates everyone and everything touched by the light of the sun.

But first, for weeks, she hates Zuko.

Because he is so far away and she has no idea when he will be back. Because he is in pain and she was not allowed to see him, will not be allowed or even able until some far off day. Because he kissed her and she wanted her turn to kiss _him_.

She thinks he is an idiot and goes over the reasons why in her mind. All he had to do was what he was told, what they had always been told. And Mai pretends she doesn’t understand why he couldn’t and never had been able to; she pretends that this isn’t the very reason why she cares so much in the first place. This particular brand of pretending, however, isn’t really easier than pain, and eventually most everything else falls away in favour of what is.

Stillness, exactly as she has been taught. She has always been good at it, but Mai finds that even she has room for improvement when there is nothing at all to move her.

***

It occurs to her, immediately upon his reaction to her inadvertent revelation, to be wary of war meetings. History repeating itself seems so massively, wildly unlikely, but it is a feeling that Mai cannot shake. Even when he re-emerges exactly as intact as he was when he entered, after hours of her silent vigil—nerves jumbled together in barely contained panic where no one could see.

Something inside of her is almost smug when she finds the letter, and Mai even clings to that for a few minutes, because it’s at least better than the other emotions tearing at her insides.

This time it really is his fault, but that doesn’t make Mai feel any better about it.

 

**IV. Conclusion**

They begin again. Like the turning of the seasons and the cycle of elements: life is circular.

***

Notification comes in the middle of the night and Mai is jostled from an uncomfortable sleep and brought to the warden’s quarters. Her uncle has already arranged clothing and transport for her and she is allowed to use a private water-chamber for as long as she wants. The war balloon does not arrive in the capital until dawn and all Mai can think about for what seems a long slow journey is Fire Lord Zuko, injured, but alive.

Their moments together are brief and the rest of the day is eaten up by speeches and huge, noisy crowds and cheers. Zuko formally introduces her to the Avatar and his company and it’s bearably awkward, each unsure how to treat this other component of Zuko’s life, but willing to adapt, nonetheless. Ministers and advisers capture Zuko in the evening and Mai wanders slowly through the halls of the palace, acclimating herself to the new world that she woke up to less than a day before.

When Zuko arrives in his bedroom, Mai is already there, undressed and unarmed, and he sighs with great relief when he sees her. Mai helps him out of his heavy, brocade robes, unpins his hair, and sets his flame diadem on the dressing table. She studies him then, for so long that he begins to blush, starting at the tips of his ears and running down his neck. She smiles and though he doesn’t need her help over to the bed, she takes his arm anyway and climbs in after him.

Zuko shifts around carefully and makes an attempt to pull her closer, but Mai clings to his arm, instead, cheek against his shoulder, avoiding his heavily bandaged chest. He makes a face, but accepts it and Mai knows that there will be arguments to come about this. She can feel his eyes on her and he has one hand in her hair, letting the silky strands slide through his fingers again and again, so Mai waits for him to say whatever it is that he’s thinking.

“It’s over,” he finally says, wonder in his voice.

“You did it,” Mai agrees.

She casts her eyes up at his face, and Zuko looks like he is going to demure, but he chances a look at her expression and thinks better of it. Mai knows better than anyone everything that it took for him to do what he did, for the Avatar and for the world.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to do this,” he says, instead.

“The position of Fire Lord comes with an entire support system, Zuko. It’s not like you’ll be alone.”

She is still watching his face as his expression turns thoughtful.

“I meant being happy.”

Mai’s tone is flippant, but they both know better. “You won’t be alone for that either.”

Zuko smiles at her, hopeful and painfully sincere. “Did you mean it?”

Mai just looks at him and his smile widens before he kisses her, sweet and affectionate, his hand cupping her face. He doesn’t move it for a long moment, his thumb absently stroking her cheek, and she can see what’s building behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says and Mai does not have to ask what for, she sees the intent there, to undo every thing that has ever hurt her, impossible as it is.

“I know,” she replies with a yawn that is not feigned. “Don’t worry. You’re going to make it up to me.”

She feels the chuckle vibrate through him more than hears it, and lets the soft sound of his steady breathing lull her to sleep.


End file.
